----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Disclaimer: All hail Dumas and his descendants.
PAX young blades and the Disney version of 3 musketeers gave inspiration to this tale. There is no money in it for me, just enjoyment
– Something I hope to share

+--------------------------------------+

-(Chapter IX Resolution)-

Siroc slept past his sleeping companions and out into the clear moonless night. The town was sleeping but the guard was vigilant as ever. As he descended the marble stair of the Mansion de le Fére a shadow detached itself from the greater dark.

"Welcome cousin… Do you know the way?" the black clothed figure asked. His presence said more 'you don't need to go alone…I've been this way before.'

"I travel along the main road and to the right…it's a narrow path through the vineyard but its one of the largest building in the town I think I can find it." Siroc smiled recognizing Sable, the ballista builder.

Sable nodded "You'll be fine I think."

Siroc was surprised how much comfort he took from so simple a sentiment… As before, the other's words held more meaning than they at first seemed – He wondered idly if all Chosen's 'lads' conversed in so cryptic a manor.

"I'll be fine." Siroc thought. He hadn't been 'fine' in so very long. He hid it well enough most of the time…He'd been educated agonizingly to do so. Still it seemed Damocles alone could comprehend the true way of things. All it took was the master's call and his well ordered world would tumble around his ears…Siroc existed with the reality that when the call came he'd come crawling back to the darkness like the dog he was made to be…with his own hands he would fasten the collar around his neck… else the red haze would descend quicker and retake his mind … his screams would long resound before the darkness swallowed him. There was no help for it; At least none till now.

Did he dare hope things could change? Siroc wondered as he made his way through the slumbering streets. He saw a light gleamed dully from the porch guiding him both literally and figuratively through the dark night. Following that steady beam He didn't fear to leave the broad road and make his way through the Vine arbors to the Chosen's door.

Emris awaited him and was quick to offered a cup of Tea; very like that he'd given the night before. Siroc was grateful for it instantly soothed his nervous stomach.

Chosen made brief introduction of "My lads Archer, Forrester, Lance and 'My lady' Athos' sister… Kel. The dark man said her name breathlessly as if it was a syllable both strange and wondrous to him. Siroc smiled in acknowledgement…he need not be Ramón in order to know that the dangerous man was well and truly in love.

Emris took charge then, setting his empty teacup aside. Chosen and I have been speaking quite a bit about what we mean to do this eve. It seems… from what little we know that you are something between the two of us. Chosen as I have said is a weapon. I am more of a tool. If we knew a bit more of you we could perhaps be more specific with our help.

'There it was'. The blond youth swayed a bit on his feet and Chosen guided him deftly to sit on the couch and they joined him in the small sitting room by the fire. The other residents of the house made themselves scarce so the three could speak in confidence.

"He, he calls he his pet." Siroc whispered unable to look at anything but his scuffed boots and the well-made rug beneath them.

"I studied your texts Emris – that is how I recognized your writing. Most I was made to memorize. If my master has a problem, I find the answer." He sighed. "Sometimes, I am the answer. You said he couldn't create…that it was a failing of the dark art. I can. Not life of course, but I AM an inventor. He needs a weapon, or tool, I am compelled to craft it…or die trying. But he never instructed me in the dark ways: The ways that do not conform to the laws of science and nature. That would be giving power to one unworthy…I am but a slave." He felt such helplessness…such shame.

"It is all right." Emris whispered placing one hand on the blond boy's shoulder and squeezing gently.

Siroc still couldn't take his eyes of the floor. "He let me go, I must be… I'm a spy…I am to get the musketeer to trust me them inform on them. When he calls me back I must obey.

Aramis was not at all surprised by the admission. "So were we both…though I didn't know it in the beginning. It appears that even with the obelisk at his command there is nothing your master has done that ours did not first conceive. Things are not as dire as we feared."

Chosen cleared his throat "I think that dark force keeps its secrets well. Mazarin has yet to unlock them. We must prevent that if we are able." Both the young inventor and the would-be-priest agreed silently.

"It is too bright in here." Chosen frowned

The statement puzzled Siroc and he finally looked up. Though the fire blazed merrily in the hearth its tentative light was hardly enough to read by. "Too bright?" he wondered.

"My lads and I were called into being in the home cavern beneath the citadel. It was many months before we saw the sun… Our dark vision is unnaturally keen. Watching you, as you made your way here, it seems you share that trait, while Emris who had a more conventional upbringing, before he was turned, does not.

I would not subject you to the dark of our cellar… Though it seems homey enough for us when we need…care. You, I think, should be outside…beneath the stars. My lads will see to it none of the night watch draws near…besides which, It is my opinion power tends to flow more freely in the open.

"I bow to your knowledge on that account Chosen… Though I can think of no place more fitting for our business than the cathedral of the night."

o------------o

'A nest,' that was the best word Siroc had to describe the place: A secluded hollow of moss and pine needles by a stream. It was peaceful here… certainly someplace he would retire naturally during daylight if he wanted to be alone with his notebook and his thoughts. At night there was a mystique of its own that fairly whispered of the haunt of wild beasts… or lovers?

Siroc felt safe … and that he expected had been Chosen's intention. He nestled comfortably atop a fur coverlet Chosen had brought and breathed in the scent of pine. Emris knelt nearby… Siroc saw him cross himself before uncovering the orb.

"Unlike the obelisk, which tends to corrupt all it touches, the orb is merely a channel. It focuses power and can direct it to a given purpose." Chosen explained softly … his voice, Siroc noted, didn't seem as horse when he spoke quietly. At a normal volume it always possessed the raw quality of someone who had been speaking… or screaming, for a long time. Siroc sensed that this, as much as his general bearing and aura of dangerousness, spoke of his place as his Master's Chosen.

These two understood… they really understood…
and they want to help -- Siroc smiled.

The 'business' was begun before the young inventor was fully aware if it. Aramis…leaned in and marked his forehead with oil then, looking up at the stars, the priest-that-was began to chant softly. Not the harsh foreign words of the robed shadows in Mazarin's tabernacle but soft soothing Latin. It was a language the inventor could read with greater facility than he comprehended the spoken word.

Still, He believed he could grasp the general essence and courage filled him. The orb was nothing but a channel Chosen had said …now he began to understand the origin and nature of the power Aramis had access to. The man he thought of, as master, had never been God. Siroc found himself following along in faltering whisper.

To you O' Lord I lift up this soul

In you I trust O my God

Do not let him be put to shame

nore let the enemy triumph anymore over him.

No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame

But they will be put to shame

who are treacherous without excuse

This one is greatly lonely sore afflicted

The trouble of his heart was multiplied

Free him from anguish

Guard his life and rescue him

Let him take refuge in you

With integrity and uprightness protect him because he has hope in none but you.

The glow of the orb intensified shedding its comforting warmth round about them. Siroc felt the energy dance lightly across his skin. "Amazing" he breathed. It was if the stars in the heavens descended to dance round them in iridescent sparks. This was contrary to the laws of nature but for the first time this did not terrify the practical inventor. There were greater laws at work here.

At some point he must have been carried off by sleep. He dreamed not of the darkness and pain of the red mist but of swirling brightness and peace.

The two who stood as witness didn't really know what to expect… Neither had any direct experience with the power of the obelisk. The dark power Aramis had only sensed flared to life. Sick violet flames licked hungrily at the helpless youth leaving his blouse nothing but ash. Angry runes burned against the boy's pallid flesh: But that that dark power could not touch him. The light of the orb surged out surrounded inert form and just as a fire in a sealed jar quickly exhausts itself so too those uncanny sigils sputtered and burnt themselves out.

------------------------

And last: Chapter 10 …Epilogue.